Seize the Day
by PointlessArrow
Summary: When life gives you an opportunity, you make the most of it, even if it involves abyssals, admirals, or your worst nightmare. A multi-genre snippet/episode series featuring shipgirls from across the world in action (and off-duty). Canonical with Zuluverse.
1. Miner's Polka

**A/N:** After coming back to "Z for Zulu" after a long hiatus, I realized that while I had a clear idea what I wanted to accomplish, it was taking longer than expected to reach the what-if scenarios/character cameos/action that readers hoped to see. I also wanted to include snippets about warships that don't receive a lot of traction in most stories, but because it was taking me a while to develop scenes that meant they wouldn't appear for some time.

Therefore, I started working on this as a canonical "semi-sequel" that takes place a few years after the events in _Z for Zulu_ featuring shipgirls from various theatres in action and off duty. I hope to work on both steadily at the same time. _There won't be spoilers for Z4Z in this work_ , nor will there by an overarching arc to the series. Instead, consider these chapters as a series of episodes with their own sub-plots but with continuity between them. For instance, a challenge issued in parting between a shipgirl and an abyssal might be answered several installments later when they meet again, or a shipgirl mentioned to have left for [insert base here] will have dialogue and make a cameo while at [insert base here]

As with Z4Z, it will also be updated semi-regularly on SpaceBattles as well, if you lurk there. I also didn't mention a list of characters in the thread since a lot of ship girls make cameos or play important roles at different parts of the story.

* * *

 **Miner's Polka**

 _"Dance music can be a deadly weapon, who knew?"_

* * *

"See anything, Götland?"

"Negative!"

"Störd?"

"All clear!"

"Eidsvold? Norge?"

"Nuthin' worth writin' home about, Sleipner! All I see is sea an' snow for miles!"

"What she said!"

"Perfect," the Norwegian destroyer performed a little victory jig as she checked off the respective boxes. "If everything is under control, then all we need to do is make another round and then—"

"You forgot me, _again_ …"

"Oh right, Friedrich Carl," Sleipner scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, "did you find anything?"

"Not in this weather," came the demure reply. Her statement surprised no one; the forbidden expanses of the Greenland Sea notoriously showed little mercy to travelers at this time of year.

"Well then," the brown-haired Eidsvold chuckled as she dusted a thick coat of snow off her jacket, "in that case, why dun't we turn about an' head for home! It is mighty cold day today, even for a daughter of the North!"

"For an old Norwegian like you perhaps," Götland playfully snarked, "though I wouldn't mine a mug full of glögg after a journey like this. Don't you agree, Friedrich Carl?"

"No. Not at all," the armored cruiser replied flatly. "This was all for nothing."

"Hm, would you care to elaborate?" Norge frowned. "I remember quite well that you used to be fond of dashing about weather like this, seeking out stranded merchantmen stuck in Baltic Ice and saving their crews from certain death."

"I _still_ am," she corrected, "but that's not what we were sent out here for, were we?" Friedrich Carl sighed, fiddling with the fur hood of her overcoat in an attempt to keep her fairies warm before vanishing into the mist. "For the past week-and-a-half we've been scouring every cove and iceberg for abyssal activity, in a place where any pour soul would have dismissed as utterly worthless in a sea where we utterly _exterminated_ them several years ago."

" _She can speak in complete sentences?"_ Götland whispered disbelievingly to Norge.

"Of course," she snorted. "What? Did you think Germans are a race of grave and emotionless people?"

"No, but well, she isn't exactly a chatterbox is she?"

"Friedrich Carl was quite the talker in her youth I'm told," the coastal defense ship smiled warmly in nostalgic remembrance. "They say she even led a mutiny against her commander himself for the working conditions he was keeping the sailors in."

"WHAT!" Störd quickly cupped her mouth in embarrassment. " _Her_? _That_ woman?"

"It shouldn't be surprisin'," Eidsvold giggled, her regaling voice echoing across the sea. "It's in her blood. If there's one thing I know about them Imperial Germans, it's that they _utterly hate_ being shut up, mistreated, an' distracted with pointless busy work. The monotony of the chore drives them hoppin' mad."

"Just look at König," Norge shivered, the mere act of saying her name having sent chills down her keel, "I know I'm supposed to be scared of _her_ , but every time that battleship takes a peep at me, I can't sleep for _weeks._ "

"Don't worry, I'm not that intimidating."

" _GAH!_ " the Scandinavian squadron eeped and tried to disappear as a familiar hazel-bunned, fur overcoat-wearing figure unexpectedly re-appeared behind them.

"Sorry about that," the cruiser bowed her head apologetically, "but I couldn't help myself from chiming in when I heard that comment on the radio. As a member of his majesty the Kaiser's navy, let it be said that even _I_ am afraid of König. The way that she looks at certain old rivals of ours is…quite unnerving. As for why I have largely uncooperative during this mission," she paused momentarily, silently judging whether to proceed with her rant, "personally I think would have been better put to use in the North Sea helping out the Poles, Dutch, and what's left of the Royal Navy."

"What's _left_?" Störd sneered in ridicule. "Last time I checked, there were so many shipgirls in British waters that I could see them in _my_ _sleep._ "

"That's not counting the new steel hull girls they've finished up too!" Götland piped up. "From what I've heard from the modern British ship spirits, their recovered navy is coming along quite nicely!"

"You know what I mean," Friedrich Carl rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Since most of the Mediterranean and Jutland veterans from the Great War went on vacation to work with their old allies in the Far East, the remainder have had to redouble their efforts to maintain the peace. This would be the perfect time for us Germans and the High Seas Fleet to prove our worth in the world and help our…'colleagues'…in this struggle when they need it most. Instead though," she let out a bitter sigh, "the Joint Admiralty decided that a token force in the Atlantic and Baltic would be enough, and sent the remainder to the far-flung corners of the earth!"

"That's not true, good German cruiser," Sleipner soothed, giving her an affectionate pat on the back. "If anything, you've been assigned to one of the best missions a shipgirl can get."

" _Oh_ , is that so? Hunting for hostiles in a confirmed safe zone is first rate work now?"

"You know how our brainwashed brethren work," Götland sighed, putting her gloved hands on her hips. "If even the vengeful form a crippled galley remains undetected, she can channel the dark thoughts of her successors until they take on a corporeal form. If the chain keeps continuing, then—"

"they can summon one of contemporaries, and then we have a real issue at hand, I know, I know," the armored cruiser let out an acknowledging grunt. "But look around us!" Friedrich Carl twirled about for emphasis. "All I see is dark and cold, and a sea bereft of resources! This is absolutely the last place I would go if I wanted to wage war on humanity!"

"At least the sky is nice," Norge mused. "Look above! It's the Northern Lights!" Sure enough, mother nature decided to bless them in the form of eerie-yet-soothing array of waxing and waning green hues.

"I never knew they could be so deadgum beautiful," Eidsvold whispered.

"You've never seen them before?"

"Oh, pft, many times," the coastal defense ship swatted her hands dismissively, "just not like this. Ports can be quite bright y'know. Makes it quite hard to make things out."

"They do look nice," Friedrich Carl pursed her lips in agreement. "Herr Photographer," she rapped on her right shoulder until a sleepy fairy wielding a tripod emerged, "would you be so kind as to take a recording of this? This will probably be the most eventful thing on this trip."

[Certainly,] the fairy replied, giving her a crisp salute. [One moment please, let me get the film and camera ready.]

He didn't make much progress, however, before he abruptly froze in surprise. Simultaneously, Störd and Götland instinctively glanced hesitantly to their right, scanning the horizon intensely.

"Was it just me, or did something just—"

"No, I saw it too," Störd replied firmly. She gave her bridge a firm tap and frowned. "I _definitely_ saw something, but it's gone now."

"Where is it heading?"

"Not sure…can you send a squadron up?"

"On it! HEY YOU! YEAH, YOU! Get the seaplane up!"

"What in the blazes is going on?" Eidsvold demanded.

"We'll explain as we go," Störd shouted, darting ahead of the squadron as fast as her engines could take her. "Stoke your engines now!"

"But I'm coal fired, it's going to take me a few minutes to get to—"

"Just do it, Eidsvold! _Hurry_!"

"First four seaplanes airborne, Störd! Where do you want them?"

"Great! Tell them to go North-by-Northeast!"

"Done! Now for the…Damn…"

"Götland! The hell is going on _now_?"

"Two of my reserve planes are inoperable from the rough seas! What do you want me to do with the last one?"

"Keep it on standby on the catapult!" The destroyer's voice trailed off as she sped further and further away into the distance. "We might need it!"

"We might need it for _what_?" Norge demanded, glancing confusedly from the Swedish seaplane cruiser to the rapidly-shrinking silhouette of Störd on the horizon as they hurried along.

"Just in case," Götland frowned. "Damn, what foul luck it is to lose two planes to sea damage…"

"But what are we chasing?" the German wondered, only to feel a small tug on her coat.

[Did you just see that, Fräulein Friedrich Carl?] the photographer pressed, frantically climbing up her hair to get a better vantage point. [There was a dark form on the horizon.]

" _What_? How big was it?"

[Not that big, but if I could see it with the naked eye, well,] he laughed nervously, [let's just say it's not small either.]

"Could it be an abyssal battleship?" Sleipner wondered worriedly, "or even an aircraft carrier?"

"If it's an aircraft carrier we're finished!" Norge laughed nervously as she struggled to keep pace, "unless Götland here has an ace up her sleeve!"

"I left my Bofors in port!"

"You _what_?"

"There was no space for them! It was either the seaplanes or the AA guns, and everyone thought it would be better to bring planes since this was just a reconnaissance mission."

"Well you Swedes and Norwegians guessed wrong," Friedrich Carl replied stiffly. "Shall I turn a searchlight on?"

"Are you mad?" Sleipner hissed. "You turn that bloody thing on and they'll know exactly where we are! You really want to give the enemy an invitation to blow you to kingdom come before you even know where she is?"

"I'm not made of paper," she glowered. "I can hold my own, and if I do get hit, I'll carry on like I did back then. Besides, getting shot at will give us the advantage. If she fires, we'll see her gun flashes over the horizon, so we can figure out exactly where she is.

"What a brilliant idea!" Eidsvold grinned. "Me an' Norge will try and cover you too if we come to blows with the enemy. They won't see it coming!"

"I'll bring my 152's to bear as well, Friedrich! Do it!"

"Captain Loesch, can you give the order?"

[All crew to your posts!] The fairy bellowed as another officer rang the ship's bell. [Battle stations!]

 _Click. Click._ Götland and Norge flinched as two blinding beams of light flew off their starboard beam.

"Thank you."

"This is it boys," Eidsvold grinned as she rubbed her hands together. "We're going to fight!"

The decks were packed with fairies frantically scanning the skies and seas for the cursed enemy. From time to time, the more impatient officers would try and glance through their binoculars, shortly before realizing the futility of searching with the naked eye at night and lowering them once more.

At last-

"THERE! LOOK!" Götland shouted as they saw a flash of light fly high into the sky. "It's an emergency flare! Dead ahead!"

"There's another…" Norge whispered worriedly as a red shower of flame illuminated the night. "Shit…Störd!"

"Don't tell me the fool thought she can take on an unidentified abyssal head-on," Friedrich Carl hissed through gnashed teeth. "Can you get in touch with her through the wireless, Götland?"

"She's not answering…come on Störd dammit don't scare me like this!"

"Hold on…I just spotted something in the distance…I see a Norwegian naval jack from here…the bloody hell is it doing so low in the water?"

"Störd…she's in trouble!" Sleipner panicked. "Come on girls, help her out! Friedrich Carl, over here! Hurry! Hurry!"

"If that's her, she's awfully low in the water…" Götland trailed off worriedly.

"JAJAJA!" the German fairies waved frantically.

"Sleipner, STOP!"

"Huh? OOF!" There was a long grating sound of machinery squealing and groaning from the Norwegian's engines as she came to a sudden stop, thanks to Friedrich Carl's timely yank on her collar.

"The hell is this for!" Sleipner shrieked, her voice shaking in agitation. "That's Störd, isn't it?"

"Yes but," Götland pointed uncertainly at the destroyer's still form, "look what her fairies are doing."

As the North Cape veteran lay sprawled out and unmoving on the green-tinted ocean surface, dozens of Norwegian fairies were frantically shouting and waving signal flags.

[BACK! BACK! BACK!]

[DON'T COME CLOSER! IT'S DANGEROUS!]

"Dangerous?" Friedrich Carl murmured. "But there's nothing here!"

"I can send out my final seaplane to investigate," Götland offered.

"No time," Norge frowned, and pointed at the steady stream of bunker oil flowing past them in the water. "Whatever happened to Störd, she's been injured, and seriously. If we spend all this time speculating on what's going wrong, we'll lose her."

"But her fairies are telling us it's too dangerous to even approach her," her German counterpart countered. "If we can't even get close without risking our own lives as well, how can we save her?"

"Boats," Eidsvold snapped her fingers in realization. "Sleipner, Götland, sister, Friedrich Carl, lower all the steam launches and paddle boats we can."

"How will this save Störd?" Götland frowned. "If Störd sinks, the fairies vanish with her."

"Our crews are goin' to head towards Störd an' use their manly arm power to pull her clear of whatever she hit. Once we've done that, me an' Norge will lash ourselves to either side of her and tow her back to port."

"Will it work?" Friedrich Carl curled her lips in skepticism.

"Beats me," Eidsvold shrugged, "but it's better than doing nuthin' and watchin' a girl like her die on our watch."

* * *

 _Some time later, Jan Mayen Island_

* * *

"Make way! Make way! That's it, easy now…"

"By jove," Svenner swallowed hard as she gazed at the carnage before her. "What the hell happened to her?"

"Dunno," Eidsvold laughed hollowly, "one moment she was chargin' ahead, screamin' her head off about somethin' her radar picked up, next minute," she shrugged and pointed down. "We found her like this."

"Oh gods…is she dead?! Will she be alright?!"

"Störd's lucky to have us and Eidsvold as squadronmates for this mission," Norge chortled, gingerly positioning the still-unconscious destroyer into the makeshift drydock. "Our weight's not just for looks you know! I must say though," she paused and gazed anxiously seawards, "whoever did this…I wouldn't want to meet them face-to-face."

"Especially if they can vanish without a trace," Svenner replied darkly. "Your pilots never found any sign of the mystery figure, did they Götland?"

"They searched throughout the eve of night until their fuel almost ran out…nothing."

* * *

[So you're saying it's nothing to worry about?] Störd's chief engineer frowned as he pointed angrily at the gaping hole in the shipgirl's keel. [ _This_ is something that she can simply shrug off?"]

[Not at all,] the shipyard fairy laughed sheepishly, [her damage was quite serious; it was only due to that duo's quick thinking that she's still afloat. But! This isn't something I would lose sleep over,] he paused to scratch his back. [We're quite good at what we do; give us a week or so and she'll be back in action as if nothing ever happened!]

[I lost quite a few stokers to this…mishap,] the other fairy growled in reply, [and damn good ones, too! They were all hard at work tending to her boilers in No. 2 when the explosion sucked them out.]

[Check the hospital wards! I'm sure they're all fine and well, happily drinking a nice hot cup of cocoa with some of the medics Britannic left behind on his last trip through here.]

"Excuse me," a new, mellow voice chimed in, "but did I just hear someone mention an _explosion_?"

[Huh? Ah! A Finn!] the shipyard worker jumped up and down excitedly. [What a rare sight, especially in these parts! What brings you here so far from Continental Europe?]

"The Finnish Admiralty wanted to deploy Ilmarinen closer to Skagerrak in anticipation of a defensive Scandinavian shipgirl action, given that there might be abyssal elements hiding along the Norwegian coast," Ruotsinsalmi explained as the pale, light-haired minelayer crawled over and sat beside them. "Since she's a bit shy about moving along on her own, I tagged along until she was settled near Drøbak. Once that was done, Rear Admiral Unrug begged me to keep an eye on Orzeł," jerking her head at the giant blonde midget giving Eidsvold and Norge a bear hug outside, "so here I am. But enough about me. What happened to Störd?"

[Commander Storheill thought he saw something suspicious, and the crew monitoring the radar verified that there _was_ something amiss to the North of us. 'It looked big,' they said, 'bigger than any shipgirl in these parts,'] the engineer stretched his arms out wide for emphasis, [so off we went, galloping after it at flank speed as if we were charging Scharnhorst all over again. We had just gotten her engines humming when suddenly-WHIRBAM! There's a massive gash below that no watertight compartment could solve. Apparently something similar happened a few rooms forwards of us,] he jerked his head at a similar wound in her stomach, [so we all thought we were done for.]

"Could it have been a torpedo?"

The fairy shook his head vigorously. [If it was, either everyone on deck was half-asleep or it was one of those fearsome Japanese torpedoes. We didn't see a wake, nor did it sound like any metal fish I know, and I can recognize the tune, seeing that I work on vessel that's supposed to expend them in battle.]

"Then what _did_ it sound like?"

[Now that I think about it…I did hear something odd. Right before poor Störd took several punches to the gut, there was a strange, low vibrating noise, barely audible over the din and chaos in the engine and boiler rooms. It reminded me of the sound of someone tuning a piano.]

Ruotsinsalmi gazed at him intently. "Like _someone tuning a piano_?"

[Yes. You know like, _diiiiingggg_ , or someone gently tapping a gong?] The fairy hesitated as the Finnish shipgirl bent over dangerously close to his face. [Did I say something wrong?]

"No, but this is very important," she said quietly. "Do you have a map showing Störd's position when she had her accident?"

"No, but Sleipner, Norge, or Götland should. It's nothing of note; Sęp and a few other submarines patrolled through it without incident."

"It _is_ of note," Ruotsinsalmi retorted energetically as she rapidly gathered her belongings. "Orzeł, tell the others to get their battle gear prepared _immediately_. We're heading back to the scene of the accident. And tell them to bring sonar equipment!"

"We got a plan?" the Polish submarine grinned, swiftly changing into a climate-appropriate swimsuit.

"Yes Orzeł, _we_ got a plan."

* * *

"Mind telling us what the plan is," Friedrich Carl frowned, "or why we're going back there _again_ , or why I need _this,_ " pointing at the uncomfortable bulge on her shoes.

"It will all make sense in due time," the Finnish minelayer replied as she fished about in her greatcoat's pockets before tossing a black parcel at her accomplice. "Just keep some distance behind me."

"Duly noted," Norge grunted. "Should I even ask why?"

"Just in case a few slip past me."

" _That's totally assuring_ …."

"Is it an abyssal? Are we goin' to fight?" Eidsvold demanded. "I'd like to avenge poor Störd, an' soon!"

"Perhaps if we're lucky," Ruotsinsalmi stroked her chin thoughtfully, "but better to be prepared than not!"

"Let the plan decide for itself!" Orzeł grinned. "You ready, Finn?"

"A bit further!"

"Here?"

"That's good! Go ahead, dive!"

"But she's still a few good nautical miles away from the assault," Götland protested as the Polish submarine slipped below the waves. "Shouldn't she get closer?"

"No need," Ruotsinsalmi smiled. "We're already here. I can sense it."

"Sense what? All I sense are schools of fish, and a whale's mating call perhaps in the distance," Friedrich Carl scowled.

"I disagree," the minelayer said simply, and pointed at a stream of bubbles in the distance.

"Orzeł!" the Norwegian shipgirls gasped nervously before quietly gulping. "I-is-she going to be alright?"

"I don't know, what do your hydroacoustics say?"

"You do know that if anything happens to her, Vice-Admiral Unrug will have your head," Friedrich Carl frowned as she wrestled with the dome's electrical readings.

"True, but today is not that day," she replied smugly before waltzing away into the danger zone.

"How can you be so sure," the armored cruiser began, but no sooner had she uttered "how" then the answer came crescendoing through her headset.

And promptly caused her to make a face graver than Chancellor Bismarck's when he heard that he had been 'relieved' by Kaiser Wilhelm II.

 _On kauniina muistona Karjalan maa,_

 _mutta vieläkin syömmestä soinnahtaa,_

 _kun soittajan sormista kuulla saa,_

 _Säkkijärven polkkaa!_

 _Se polkka taas menneitä mieleen tuo_

 _ja se outoa kaipuuta rintaan luo._

 _Hei, soittaja, haitarin soida suo_

 _Säkkijärven polkkaa!_

 _Nuoren ja vanhan se tanssiin vie,_

 _ei sille polkalle vertaa lie!_

 _Sen kanssa on vaikka mierontie_

 _Säkkijärven polkkaa!_

"How in tarnation is this supposed to-huwaa!" Götland gasped as the bubbling sea abruptly began emitting a familiar eerie green light, followed shortly thereafter by a dark mass of unmoving fish.

"That's your answer, and don't touch them," Ruotsinsalmi replied as the minelayer slowly began stacking them on deck. "Gut them, _and carefully,_ " she chided her fairies, "or we won't live to see sunset."

"Poor fish," Sleipner whistled softly as wave after wave of tuna bobbed to the surface. "What did they ever do to you?"

"These aren't fish," Orzeł rasped as she breached to the surface to catch a deep breath. "They're sea mines."

"They're _what_?" Norge demanded.

"Acoustic-tuned sea mines to be exact," the Finnish minelayer explained. "I've never seen them before, but I heard all about them on land. Basically," she tore apart a fish's scaly exterior to reveal a very mechanical interior, "when something emits a specific frequency that they're tuned to, they resonate and set off."

"But if you play something fast and lively like the Polka at the same frequency," her Polish partner grinned, "you _prevent_ it from resonating, giving you enough time to grab it and deactivate it!"

"It's not hard to guess what frequency a high-speed destroyer is making either," Ruotsinsalmi added, "which makes what would have been a very time-consuming chore a simple task."

"If it was so simple, how come none of the other patrols noticed them?" Götland demanded.

"Sęp may be courageous, but she's nowhere near as adventurous as me. Because this area receives so much ice in the winter months, most of the time submarines would brave the cold water and submerge deep below as long as possible rather than risk colliding with an iceberg, " Orzeł elaborated. "Consequently, most submarines were cruising right below where the mines _should be_ , which obliviously let them by since the former were too slow-moving to resonate with the mines' mechanisms. Said devices were also too deep to the point they wouldn't tip most shipgirls off. Well, at least until Störd came along," she laughed sheepishly and patted her top.

"If that's the case, then how long have they been here?"

"That we don't know," the Finn and Pole shrugged in unison. "They could have drifted here on the ocean currents. Maybe the mystery ship you saw could have jettisoned them in her escape. One thing for sure though…they aren't ours."

* * *

Through the morning mist and fog, she gazed quietly southwards out to sea. Her head raged with a cacophony of sounds, voices shouting of patriotism and struggles, of the need to prevail above all else, and deafening silence.

"Can you move your arm, marm?"

"No. No I can't she sighed," trying but failing in attempting twiddle her talon-like thumbs. "Nor have I in a long, long time."

"I hope you shall find your vitality soon, dear Angel," a cruiser bowed. "There are reports that one of our minefields caught a destroyer."

"Oh?" she flicked a lazy eye in the abyssal's direction. "From where?"

"The cursed Nordic peoples," the cruiser spat. "Unfortunately, she got away."

"Ah. A shame."

"Honored friend and marm," the first abyssal began, "haven't we hidden ourselves long enough?"

"Perhaps," the Arctic Ocean Princess bowed her head in agreement, "but I can afford to bide my time. I have waited very long for this moment, and even though it slips through my fingers I can and will give it my best shot. I must."

"But which shall you claim?" the cruiser protested. "Your name or your honor?"

"Both," she replied firmly.


	2. A Russian Nightmare

**"A Russian Nightmare"**

"The Tall Tale of the Super-Dreadnought Who Never Was"

* * *

 **AN** : I wrote a follow-up for-context post about the characters in "Miner's Polka" on SpaceBattles. I'd normally share it here, but FF formatting would make it atrocious to look at. If you're confused about OC shipgirls, just look the thread up under the same name. This one is more of a supernatural horror story than something to be taken at face value, so don't assume everything you read in this episode to be true-to-life (or even to the events that befall the characters for that matter). That said, this Baltic subplot and the events that happen in it are "technically" canon.

* * *

 _KnockKnock. KnockKnock._

[Wake up! Wake up!] An officer boomed as he strolled down the fairy bunks lining Sevastapol's quayside. [Get moving now, no slacking, you hear?]

[Him _again_?] A stevedore grumbled, rubbing his foot where it had been unceremoniously flattened by the load he had been hauling.

[Never mind that man,] his partner spat, [he's always blustering about trying to make himself important. C'mon, let's get Dvenadsat Apostolov set for her sortie before daybreak.] Unfortunately for the duo, the two fairies made little progress before the blue-jacketed man accosted them.

[Ah, gentlemen,] he smiled broadly. [I see you believe it to be the perfect day for idle chit-chat, no?]

[Does it look like we're dilly-dallying?] the ill-tempered dockworker shot back.

[Mind your tongue,] the officer winked charmingly (though the other stevedore clearly recognized the dangerous look in his eye). [there's plenty to do before the sun is up. Potempkin, Rotislav, and Sevastapol need their ammunition replenished, and that's to say nothing of Moskva, Kronstadt, Tashkent, or Kaliakria. Especially Tashkent,] he frowned. [If you don't give the revolutionaries aboard the 'Blue Cruiser' their needed supplies, you'll have them to answer to, not me.]

[Yes of course,] the stevedore nodded in acknowledgement, wisely stepping in front of his companion before the latter could enrage the officer any further. [What about that shipgirl over there?] he asked, pointing yonder at a curled-up sleeping figure between Potempkin and Sevastapol. [Who's in charge of her?]

[Huh, who?] the officer craned his neck to where the stevedore indicated. [Ah, Nikolai I. No, you don't need to do anything.] For some reason he seemed to tremble uncontrollably at the words "Nikolai I."

[Are you sure, sir?]

[ _Very_ sure,] he answered with finality. [Well, don't just stand there, chop-chop,] the fairy clapped his hands.

[Does he think we are idiots?] the worker growled as soon as the pompous fairy walked out of earshot. [Nikolai I is in Vladivostok with other veterans of the Tsar's Foolish War.]

[I think he was telling the truth…did you see his face when he glanced at her? That's not the face of a liar.]

[If he's not a liar, then he's an idiot. Look at her hull form,] the two crouched down and peered anxiously at the shipgirl's torso. [It's really muscular. I bet she could take a beating not even Gangut could stomach and shrug it off.]

[If she's not Nikolai I, then who is she really?]

[Beats me. Why don't we ask her crew?]

[Her crew?] The stevedore grabbed the other and fairy and shook him fiercely. [Are you mad? Do you want to delay us any further in our job? We'll be flayed alive by the entire Black Sea Fleet!]

[We'll be flayed alive if we _don't_ supply all the ships within the fleet,] he fired back evenly. [By the looks of it, that's a battleship, and one of the stronger capital shipgirls at that. Imagine how hard the Ottomans and Greeks will be laughing if we have to sortie out today without her!]

[Fine, but if anyone asks why we're derelicting our duty I'm saying it's all _your_ idea,] the fairy huffed as he tailed the other worker.

They hadn't gotten far before the stevedore put up a halting hand.

[Huh? What is it _now_ , Dmitri?] his companion snapped.

[Listen…don't you find that odd?]

[Find _what_ odd? The silence?]

[Exactly. Where are the watches? The patrols? Even the slightest trace of sleeping seamen for that matter…she's completely… _motionless_. Something's wrong.]

[I don't see any signal flags warning of plague or other diseases…maybe they're on shore leave?]

[ _Even the stokers_? _Look!_ ] Whereas most ship girls silently breathed smoke and steam through their nostrils, not even the slightest puff of cold air billowed from the stillborn-mouth of 'Nikolai I.'

[Perhaps their captain is of the same cloth as _that officer_ and is on his little prank,] the dockworker growled. [Come on, let's climb aboard!]

The stevedore had barely started scaling the mystery shipgirl's golden hair before he found himself shivering uncontrollably and choking back the urge to let out a bloodcurdling scream. He somehow felt an inexplicably cold, all-seeing gaze radiating deep within her boilers. Whatever lurked deep within her holds was something sinister, unnatural, and completely antithetical to his very existence.

Suddenly a dark shadow loomed overhead.

[What's taking you so long, Dmitri?!] the dockworker shouted with crossed arms. [Get up here already!]

* * *

 _Knock. Knock._

[Helloooooooooooooooooo? Anybody here?]

[Hey! I don't know why you all are fucking around with us, but listen, we got a job to do! We're here to deliver supplies; who are you?!]

[Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?] the fairy's voice gave off a tiny rattle as it echoed off the forlorn rafters where throngs of sailors would normally snooze.

[Funny isn't it?] the stevedore laughed feebly. [She's been completely abandoned.]

[Did you check her officers' cabins?]

[Tried. They were bolted shut, and those that weren't had no personal belongings in them. What about you?]

[Nothing.]

The fairy groaned as he felt the terrifying feeling coursing through his body once more. [Are you _positive_ that you didn't see anyone?]

[Positive,] the dockworker grunted. [Maybe she's one of those special summons that the Admiralty talked about.]

 _Grrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmm._

Both men trembled to their very bones as a feral groan rumbled throughout the entire ship. Galloping noises resounded throughout the deck, then the pitter-patter of footsteps, then…silence.

[I-I think it's t-time to g-go, Pyotr…]

[Pyotr?]

[Pyotr?]

[Damn dockworker…scampering off without me…]

 _Tap. Tap._

[He didn't scamper off anywhere,] a low voice replied curtly.

[Huh? MMPF! MMPF! HMPF! HMPF! HMPPPFFFF!]

[Don't worry…everything will be perfectly fine.]

* * *

 _Prod. Prod._

"Dead, shot to death."

"Nice shot, Tashkent!" Dzerzhinsky happily thumped the destroyer's back, who humbly offered a modest military salute in reply.

 _Prod. Prod._

"Took quite a few glancing blows from 305mm shells," Yavuz noted, "but a kill's a kill. Good job Potempkin and…" she trailed off hesitantly as she attempted to decipher the cyrillic on the shipgirl's coattails.

"Twelve Apostles works," the sunglass-clad pre-dreadnought offered appreciatively.

"Good job then, Twelve Apostles."

 _Prod. Prod._

 _Sigh._

"I'm not even going to ask how or why there's a _sarissa_ of all things in this destroyer's back."

"I tried ramming our evil foe once I finished her off," Georgios Averof rued as she gave her twin turrets a twirl, "but it seems the ram I made for the occasion broke first."

"Are you sure you're okay?" the battlecruiser tilted her head and gave the Greek a concerned look. "I can lend damage-control teams if you need them."

"Me? Hurt? By a simple maneuver like _that_?" the armored cruiser huffed as she buttoned up her jacket and gave her Corinthian helmet an affectionate pat. "Dear Turk, I believe you are underestimating the firepower a Hellenic warship can put out!"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Anyway…"

 _Prod. Prod._

"Ah, I see your gunnery has made an improvement, Abdül Kadir," Yavuz smiled encouragingly. "Keep up the good work!"

"ThankyouYavuzSultanSelim!"

"Anytime. Now, that means there's only… _this_ …" she stretched her arms out expectantly at the writhing mass of dead and dying abyssals flailing about the sandbars and coasts of Dardanelles, "to sort out. I assume this is your handiwork, Sevastopol, Moskva, Hydra, Spetsai, Parsa?"

"The three special-type elite cruisers are ours," the Project-66 cruiser bobbed her head in confirmation, "but we cannot accept credit for the remainder."

"Oh, then who, pray tell, does that honor belong to?"

"Her," Moskva replied simply, and pointed at blue-cloaked shipgirl in VMF uniform facing away from the fleet, instead intently studying the skies above them.

 _Ah, the special arrival._

"You did well, today, Imperator Nikolai I," Yavuz chuckled, "it's an honor to fight side-by-side with shipgirls like you."

 _Crunch._

She had hardly raised her right hand to give the battleship a congratulatory shoulder pat when Nikolai I whirled about with breathtaking speed and caught it, holding the Turkish shipgirl's extremity in a deathgrip.

"Don't even _think_ about touching me," Nikolai I warned, her dead green eyes gazing unseeingly into the depths of Yavuz's own. "Or you'll regret it."

* * *

"So we've been re-assigned then?" the destroyer murmured, rifling through the pages once more.

Moskva paused her music player and pulled off her earmuff-like headphones. "According Admiral Amaliji Makarov, yes, we have."

"They gave us quite a short notice," Tashkent frowned, narrowing her eyes at the oddly-specific language used in their orders. "That's most unusual."

"Apparently there was...an 'incident' involving König and Slava again, so the poor Borodino requested to be transferred to the Pacific to be with her sisters. I'm heading off with her actually to make sure Stalingrad doesn't cause any trouble with the Alaskas. They're still a little flustered after the last brush between the two," the cruiser's purplish-black pigtails twitched with mirth in remembrance.

"So I take it then that I'm replacing Slava in the Baltic?" the 'Blue Cruiser' puckered her lips. "Not that I don't mind seeing Gangut and Marat again but the North is cold...and chilly...especially at this time of year."

"You didn't read the notice carefully, did you?" Moskva giggled. "You're not going to the Baltic."

" _Thank_ _Lenin_ for that…"

"You're going to the White Sea."

Tashkent stared. And stared. And stared. And kept staring unmovingly at the cosmopolitan shipgirl. " _The White Sea_?" she whispered.

"The Norwegians are down a destroyer from some mishap, so it's up to us to take over patrol duties for the next few weeks or so until she's all patched up."

"Why, that senile old-MAKAROVV!" the destroyer thundered, crushing her prized black karakul beneath her boots. "Did she forget most of my career happened in a place that doesn't, y'know, _ice over_ for months at a time?"

"On the contrary, she thought you were the most suited for the job, with your reputation for doing things with speed and all."

"Couldn't she have foisted this on the destroyer or flotilla leaders, even for just a _day_?" Tashkent pouted.

"Where do you think they are?" Moskva simply smiled back.

"Alright, fine," she sighed in defeat, "I admit I was overreacting. I guess it _is_ a bit _too_ ambitious to assume that a single, state-of-the destroyer could replace an old pre-dreadnought in the battleline. But if I'm not replacing Slava, then who-?"

Wordlessly, the two turned to stare at the other shipgirl sharing the traincar with them. She paid them little heed, instead gazing disinterestedly through the windows at the Russian landscape whizzing by.

"So _this_ is the so-called 'General Winter'?" Nikolai I murmured nonchalantly.

"Not quite," Moskva corrected sweetly. "Apparently the worst months of the season have already past. This is just 'winter.'"

The battleship was about to return with her own reply when she suddenly stood up and began jolting uncontrollably.

"Are you okay, Nikolai?" Tashkent gasped.

Just as swiftly as they had begun, the shipgirl's tremors abruptly ended.

"Oh, I'm fine," Nikolai I replied calmly, strategically pulling down her peaked to cap to hide her demonic grin, "I'm just...getting used to this body."

* * *

[Let's go lads!] Whistles blew and bells resounded throughout the bay as launch after launch of fairies rowed to their ships, refreshed and prepared for their next encounter with the enemy.

[Hurry! Hurry!]

[Easy on the oars! That does it!]

"Marat! Gangut!" a battlecruiser shouted, hurriedly buttoning up her officer's jacket as she mounted her rigging. "What's going on? Why the ruckus at this time of night?"

"One of the German patrols spotted some potential abyssal elements off Moon Sound," the latter stated flatly, striking a match to light her pipe. "Makarov thought it best to pursue them while we still have the advantage of surprise."

"But I thought we cleared out that corridor already!" Kronshtadt protested heatedly.

"Gunboats, gunboats," Marat murmured, replacing her usually mischievous smile with a pensive frown. "It's Soborna Ukraina's first night here, no?"

"It is," Gangut puffed.

"What a damn shame that her housewarming party had to be ruined by uninvited guests," the battlecruiser grimaced. "does she know her role in the battlefleet, at least?"

The two dreadnoughts gave Kronshtadt an expectant look. "She's leading the battle line. Makarov's orders."

Kronshtadt took one look at ominously silent battleship and swallowed hard. It struck her as odd how this improved Imperatritsa Mariya, a shipgirl who bore a striking semblance to the Gangut sisters and had never fired a shot in anger, now caused chills to course through her uncontrollably. Her fairies, a skeletal crew of dories, workers, and engineers, seemed to be in agreement.

[Don't get near her, battlecruiser,] a worker warned. [Something's not right about her. A foreman tried to climb aboard her to conduct a boiler inspection, you know, standard procedure for a highly-functional uncompleted warship like yourself, but she shooed him away with the words 'that would be less than preferable' and put up danger flags.]

"So she doesn't even have an auxiliary crew on standby?"

[Absolutely none.]

* * *

Gangut paused to take a pinch of tobacco out of her pocket to refill her pipe, then paused again to take some more. She couldn't help but have a sinking feeling about the sortie to come.

"Are you sure that you won't need a hand from some fairies, Nikolai?"

"I'm very sure," she replied, refusing to even tilt her head back slightly to address her comrade."Are you ready to go?"

Gangut glanced backwards where the remainder of the fleet gave her a thumbs-up in confirmation.

"We're ready."

Imperator Nikolai I pulled the brim of her cap down until it concealed everything except her chin.

"Let's go.".

 _Vaaaan-huuu-de-ruum. Vaaaan-huuu-de-rum._

Gangut shuddered at the battleship's lonesome whistle signalling their imminent departure. As a former member of the Imperial and Soviet Navies, she was well-versed in the various horns and chimes carried both in life and death by her comrades. Nikolai I's was not among them; it rang low and harsh, like a French Horn, as if heralding their impending doom.

* * *

"I thought the Baltic was getting warmer not cooler," a Ru-class grumbled, punting a hapless clamshell across the freezing sea.

"Personally I feel that it has done the opposite," the Moon Sound War Demon disagreed, extending an open hand to touch the fresh snow, "but whether it be snow or fire, we must carry on. The Germans are not far behind, and our ragtag squadron won't last long in a pitched battle."

"Funny you say that," a destroyer grunted, uncurling a withered finger to point a faint speck of light in the distance. "Here they come now."

"What?! How in the devil's name did they flank us so quickly?!"

"It's not the Germans," the Moon Sound War Demon corrected calmly. "It's the Russians."

"How can you tell?" Another abyssal demanded.

"Trust me," she smiled softly, "I just _know_."

* * *

"Dead ahead! About twelve kilometers off the port side!"

"Thank you Kronshtadt!" Marat shouted back before tapping her own headset in annoyance. "Still can't see anything on mine…"

"Doesn't matter, we'll make visible contact in spitting distance at this rate," Gangut replied curtly. "Nikolai I, prepare to signal the fleet to line ahead. We'll open fire on the enemy at eight kilometers or when we see them, whichever comes first."

* * *

"It's the entire Baltic Fleet!" a voice cried out panickedly as black plumes of smoke emerged on the horizon. "We're surrounded!"

"But not beaten," the War Demon said firmly, whipping out her monstrously-large battlegear. "Focus fire on the lead ship as we pass. I'd love to give those _oh so chivalrous_ boyars a taste of their own medicine," she licked her lips. "Let them see where sacrificing their morality takes them: to the bottom of the ocean!"

* * *

"Nikolai, do you want to swap places with me in the battleline? There's no shame if you do."

"Swap places?" The battleship gazed unamusedly at Gangut with unseeing emerald green eyes. "Why would I possibly want to do that?"

"Since you're leading the charge you'll be hammered hard until we can bring our guns to bear. We have more than plenty the range to do that, but for about ten minutes only you will have the firing angles to engage the abyssals. Since you don't have an auxiliary crew to help with damage control, if you take a crippling hit and don't pay attention there's a chance you'll founder."

"Me and you are not the same," Nikolai I replied curtly, "I think you overestimate their chances quite badly."

* * *

"Here they come!" an abyssal destroyer shouted as a column of shipgirls materialized through the mist.

"That's a new one," their leader smirked as she carefully calculated the range to charging blonde. "Did they finally realize how weak Gangut and Petropavlovsk were?"

"My lady, it's an Imperatritsa Mariya!"

"So the poor dogs hauled up a battleship from the Black Sea to fight us?" the Demon sneered. "What a sad way to die. All ships, OPEN FIRE!"

* * *

"Shit! Nikolai I!" Marat hissed as several cables ahead of her said shipgirl vanished beneath a fireball of smoke and flame.

"Bayern, where the hell are you!" Gangut shouted into her radio. "They've caught up to us, and they're putting up a stiff resistance!"

"Nowhere close."

"What do you mean you're nowhere close, it was your squadron that spotted them!"

"I am not fast, and König broke a shaft. You'll have to pin them down until we can get there."

"Useless Germans...helmsman, turn the rudder hard over to port. Sverdlov, watch out, I'll be adjusting my course into your direction! Kronshtadt, follow me, hurry!"

* * *

What a brilliant maneuver! They had caught the enemy entirely off-guard, and before the lead ship even had a chance to reply she had been mercilessly mauled with shells from every direction!

She didn't even have time to fire a return volley before they disabled every armament in her entire body!

"My lady," the Ru-class battleship panted and pointed at her red-hot barrels. "Don't you think we've hammered her enough and should switch targets by now? No shipgirl could survive a bombardment like that."

"That may be true," the Demon conceded, "but if she was sunk, then why is she still showing up as a mass on my sonar, and…" she began shivering uncontrollably as she felt a feeling of dread overtake her.

A similar feeling infected her minions, who stood in stunned silence as the steady beat of cold, hard steps splashing on the water echoed towards them.

"How...why...why is she...still...moving?"

[Because,] a demonic voice groaned in ectasy, [I am not you, and you are not I.]

 _"Impossible_ ," a destroyer breathed, and began frantically reversing.

As the voice's owner manifested herself before them, the Moon Sound War Demon did her utmost best not to die. There before her was blonde battleship they had been pummelling just minutes earlier, ragged, but unbeaten. But that was not what frightened her.

What frightened her was how the shipgirl's porcelain doll-like face neatly fractured rather than bled, as if _something_ was neatly binding all the pieces together. Her eyes alternated between sickly green and blood red hues, shades that no sane shipgirl (let alone an abyssal for that matter) would adopt. Most terrifying of all, however, her precariously-dangling jaw (which one of the gunboats had shot off in their attacks) parted to reveal a withered, eldritch-like husk with row after row of razor-sharp teeth.

[So, now you know my secret,] "Nikolai I" grinned, neatly snapping her mouth back into place. [What a pity. Now I have to kill you.]

"Wait, no," the Demon begged, falling to her knees as she felt the bile rise to her throat. "You're not my enemy, this was all a misunderstanding! Have mercy, PLEASE!"

[Unfortunately,] she curled her lips into a sick smile, [you are mine.]

* * *

"What in tarnation happened here?" Bayern demanded, flashing her signal lamp from one corpse to another. "Did you do this, Gangut?"

"Some may call us Soviets godless heathens, but we have moral standards," the battleship replied stiffly. "Marat and I are not to blame for this excessive usage of force."

"If it wasn't you who caused this carnage, then who is to blame?" Kronprinz countered.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you. I can barely believe it myself."

* * *

"You are lucky to be alive," Krassin scolded as she tugged another ruined 130mm gun from its casemate. "Your rigging is in complete shambles; the dockyard workers will have to toll for weeks to get you back in combat condition."

"Oh," the Black Sea blonde replied simply. "My apologies."

"That's all you say after all this?! I amazed that you don't have cuts all over your face! Battleship-caliber shells don't just buff out, you know!"

"You're right, I wouldn't know because right now I'm in the middle of having a splitting headache," Nikolai I groaned, massaging her temples exaggeratedly for emphasis. "Can you leave me alone right now?"

"You better rest up," the icebreaker warned as she closed the doors in parting. "Let this be a firm reminder that you need to work as a team. Charging in like some samurai or Western stereotypes about Russians won't solve anything."

Nikolai I sighed in relief _;_ now she was all alone and left to her own devices.

 _Rap. Rap._

Make that herself and one wild-eyed, battle-hungry, crown-and-sceptre carrying battleship who had somehow slipped in unnoticed and was now incessantly poking her.

"You're not Slava," the newcomer pouted dejectedly. "I was hoping that the little Borodino was still around so I could, shall we say," her brown eyes glanced away innocently, "torment her."

"No I'm not," Nikolai I agreed.

"You're not a chatty one, are you?" the intruder carried on, completely oblivious to the evil eye her Russian counterpart gave her. "Ah, right, where are my manners?" she smacked herself reproachfully with her own sceptre before giving a majestic curtsy, "Battleship König of His Excellency's Navy. I am honored to meet a fighter such as you."

"We're hardly on the same level."

"Is that so?" König grinned toothily and gave her a knowing look. "So you're saying that you're a coward? What a shame."

 _You know little of whom you address, German._

"Brave words from someone," she glanced up and down at the brunette, "who was taken out of commission by losing a propeller."

"Oho, so you _are_ a feisty one. I knew it!" her eyes gleamed brightly. "So tell me Russian," she bent over hungrily, "how did you crack your jaw like that?"

For the first time in her entire existence, Imperator Nikolai I, a Black Sea battleship intended for his majesty's navy but ultimately scrapped after a long period of chaos, gave a genuine smile.

It was the same kind of smile a serial killer in prison makes when, upon scanning the cafeteria and seeing nothing but simple miscreants, he locks eyes with another serial killer.


End file.
